


Just 2 weeks

by antrazi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor, Preseries, Teenage Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antrazi/pseuds/antrazi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In two weeks the High School year would be over and he could pack Sam in the Impala and follow their dad. Just two weeks more with the boss from hell. He was a Winchester, he could do this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just 2 weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Imps: Small, mischievous creatures that enjoy the company of humans and try to keep their interest and friendship through playing pranks. Not malicious, but annoying

**  
  
Just 2 weeks**

_ Beta:  _ [ ](http://lolaann1.livejournal.com/profile) [ **lolaann1** ](http://lolaann1.livejournal.com/)

_ Artist:  _ [ ](http://shakensilence.livejournal.com/profile) [ **shakensilence** ](http://shakensilence.livejournal.com/)

_ Prompt by [](http://ficwriter1966.livejournal.com/profile)[**ficwriter1966**](http://ficwriter1966.livejournal.com/) : Dean takes a job in a small local supermarket to make a few bucks - and discovers that he's working alongside the Most Insane Co-Worker EVER. (Could be teen!Dean or Stanford era.) _

 

_ _

 

 

Dean hated working in supermarkets.

He hated his stupid vest with all  the  _ funny _ buttons, he hated that he had to smile at all the customers, but most of all he hated Jake Konavich, his boss.

Jake got to be the boss of their little branch in Bumfuck, Nowhere through the time honored system of nepotism.

His family figured this kept him too occupied to fuck up too much, gave him something to do.

The only person who didn't understand that he got this position so he didn't have to clean up vomit in the next Plucky Pennywhistles was, of course, Jake.

The supermarket was his kingdom and in the noble tradition of despots across all times and countries, he ruled it with an iron fist.

This wouldn't have been a problem for Dean, he went to the John Winchester school, he could follow rules.

What made it complicated was that Jake wasn't completely... sane.

And his rules weren't either.

Dean put new labels on all the cans, as per his orders. He labeled them with the exact same price as before, as ordered.

Camille, who was perhaps 5 feet tall and 95 pounds, loaded and sorted the new merchandise in the storeroom, as ordered. That she needed much longer because she had to use the ladder for nearly everything didn't matter at all.

At least Henry had some luck today. The old guy was the only one who had a preference for cleaning duty. Not only were employees with cleaning supplies practically invisible to Jake, it gave Henry the option of just leaning on his mop when his arthritis went haywire. 

The one positive thing that could be said about Jake was that he was absolutely fair. He didn't differentiate between races, ages or genders, between poor or rich, dumb as dirt or Mensa candidate, customer or employee, they were all totally equal and in his opinion somewhere below pond scum.

Dean's hand shook from the repeated motion of labeling. He switched hands and tried to think of something positive to flee the mental monotony.

In two weeks the High School year would be over and he could pack Sam in the Impala and follow their dad. Just two weeks more with the boss from hell. He was a Winchester, he could do this.

* * *

Night shift

A customer stood over the collection of TV dinners and decided which one to buy.

Dean could have told him that they all tasted like cardboard.

In theory the night shift was more relaxed. You had time to do the things that you didn't time to do during the day. In theory. Of course Dean already knew how the night would go, and watching a customer deciding on his dinner was not the highlight of it.

The highlight was his nightly entertainment:

Jake came out of his office, clad in perfectly ironed pajamas, an old bathrobe swishing around him. The outfit was completed with steel cap boots, an old steel helmet and a shotgun.

He patrolled the supermarket first, looking for anything fishy. He glared at the customer for a few moments suspiciously.

The customer didn't even react.

With a move that looked like it had been perfected by Jerry Lewis, Jake shouldered the weapon and came to Dean.

“Did something happen?” Direct, to the point and unfriendly. Exactly like everything else about Jake.

Dean sighed tiredly and nodded. “Somebody went through the trash again. I don't know what they think they'll find.”

Jake cursed. “Damn useless kids. One day I will see them doing it, mark my words!”

His eyes focused on Dean. “The merchandise in aisle 3 and 6 is not perfectly aligned as it should be. Fix that, boy, I don't pay you for just standing here and chatting.”

He went in the other direction to the trash, inspecting the evidence and searching for clues to identify the culprit.

Jake wouldn't find anything. Dean had been very careful.

The young hunter had learned fast that you had to have an incident ready for night shift or something else to occupy his interest.

Because if you didn't, Jake would find something.

According to the townies, 2 years ago somebody forgot to prepare a story.

Jake got the idea in his head that somebody was trying to manipulate everybody in a slow acting political campaign to banish marshmallows and after that all types of candy, resulting in a total banishment of everything with sugar, cutting a good portion of Jake's potential profits off.

After more than a month of research, he identified the local leader of the political arm of this so-called 'eating healthy society' as Pepper Miller.

Jake answered with his shotgun.

A local artist had done a highly political recreation of that episode.

The art scene had lauded the piece with raving comments, declaring it progressive, alarming and intense, something really different.

Not that Dean saw anything other than a human shooting a harmless West-Highland Terrier.

And old Mrs Miller never got over the loss of her dog

Just one week more. He was nearly done.

* * *

Dean looked over his work, proud of the tiny and careful runes that were nearly impossible to see.

With Jake practically living in his office, actually living compared to just being there for most of the day, Dean had to be very quiet for this.

After he put the panel were it belonged, the runes were invisible and would only come up again when somebody decided to demolish the store or renovate everything.

Dean put the homemade paint on the ground, he would have to salt and burn the rest, he didn't think it would be a good idea if somebody else used paint infused with hair of Jake.

The High School year was over and they would drive to Dad immediately. Sam and all their belongings were already in the car, Sam was asleep.

That was a good thing, Dean didn't want his little brother to know what he had just done.

The runes were an open invitation for any imp in the vicinity to settle in the direct area of the human marking the runes.

Although he was pretty sure other hunters would come to this town, perhaps in a few years...

 


End file.
